


Miss Melody

by CrimsonBinome



Category: Newsies, Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonBinome/pseuds/CrimsonBinome
Summary: The neighbour is driving David nuts, endlessly practicing the violin.A meet-cute.





	Miss Melody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnarkyBubble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyBubble/gifts).



> A quick one-shot after listening to Akon ft. Miri Ben-Ari "Miss Melody".  
> The track gave me an idea for the story and it wouldn't leave me alone until I put it down. So...here it is...
> 
> Usual disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, the characters, or anything related to Akon's song.

David had his own place. He had planned on this for ages, but something had always come up that kept him from moving out.

 

First it was school - med school was so damned expensive that the only logical thing was to live at home and save every penny.

In David's last year of studies, Meyer got sick. David had to be there as much to help take care of him as to provide support for his family. Even on the days that he couldn't handle seeing his father wither away, he was still there - stoic, helpful, caring, completely shut off from his own feelings on the matter, only focusing on making everyone else comfortable. David took the rest of the year off school.

Then Sarah got married and moved out to Brooklyn. The wedding date had been decided on a year before they even found out Meyer was ill at all. At least her father walked her down the aisle. Kind of. David walked her, carrying an iPad, Facetiming the Jacobs family patriarch from the hospital.

After that, Les got into some trouble. He hadn't taken Meyer's death well and spiraled badly for nearly a year. Esther did her best, but she was in mourning herself so there was only so much of her to go around. Sarah at least had someone to lean on. The rest of the family needed David. Pushing through the rest of his studies, David managed to finish his degree, all the while taking care of his mother, dragging Les to his AA meetings, and carving out time to visit with his nieces.

 

Finally, on his thirtieth birthday, Esther sat him down and gave him enough to cover First and Last month's rent and another month to be on the safe side. He had an amazing job and could easily afford a good apartment, especially if he got roommates. Esther insisted because she wanted to give him a gift he so deserved after everything he'd sacrificed - freedom. This way he wouldn't need to get roommates too and for once in his life be able to get a little bit of peace and quiet at home.

 

David had moved in on the first of March. He managed to find an incredibly spacious one-bedroom in a Broooklyn pre-war building. It didn't have the latest amenities, like some of the newer buildings. Hell, it actually had no amenities, unless he wanted to count the ancient dumbwaiter or laundry chute in his galley kitchen. The doors to both had been spackled and painted over so many times that he could barely figure out where the seams had been in order to open them. The apartment was great though - sunny, with a stunning view. He could even sit out on the fire escape to enjoy his morning coffee.  
And it was quiet.  
Holy hell was it ever quiet. Considering his windows faced a busy boulevard, he heard very little of the noise up on his top floor and for once in his life, he felt like he had everything. One of his friends dubbed the apartment David's "penthouse in the sky" and he smiled remembering his words every single time he came home.

It was his quiet haven for six weeks.  
David had been slowly filling up the space, making it his own. He had some built-in shelves in the living room and had run out of space on them the day he moved in. Esther had come in to add some touches, but when she walked in, she could see that the place was that of a grown-up adult man, who had been aching to express himself for decades. He didn't need a reminded of his mother in this very personal space. She complimented him instead and gave him some more cash on the promise that he would go and buy some nice bookshelves to gather up the rest of his books off the floor.

Preparing for his mother's visit, David had opened the windows to air the place out a little and to let in the rich smell of spring rain. That very specific smell of spring that awakened the senses and boosted the spirits in anticipation of warmer weather. David had read somewhere that it was called 'petrichor', though he'd never found the word nearly poetic enough to encompass the experience.  
As he cleaned and made plans for when it got warm enough out to just be out, David's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sounds of someone tuning a violin. The building was a sort of square shape with a courtyard in the middle and windows facing one another in that space - mostly kitchens and bathrooms. The confined space amplified any sound though, so it was impossible to pinpoint the source of the grating sound.  
The so-called musician was at it for a solid half an hour.  
The next day, the sounds repeated, though this time they were followed by a simple, but pretty melody. The music wasn't bad, it was just that it would happen like clockwork exactly at the time David chose to have some tea and read his book after his shift at the clinic. Some days it would be simple jigs, other days it would be elaborate classical pieces. David could appreciate the skill behind the music, so he felt bad that he felt inconvenienced by it. Still, it bugged him.

As the days turned to weeks, he found himself trying to figure out who the violinist could be. A few times, the music disappeared for a few days at a time - David guessed they had gone out of town. He didn't want to admit it, but he'd miss the melodies. As the days warmed and he kept his windows open more frequently, David began to notice a shift in the music. At first, the violinist would play covers of pop songs, sometimes even takes on rock tunes, a lot of classical pieces that were more technically complex, only occasionally dabbling in melodies that David couldn't recognize. Those ones were different - elegant, gentle, raw. It was those melodies that started painting a portrait of the violinist in David's mind. With every new original piece, he found himself putting down his book and just listening.

The music went from a simple annoyance to a stable part of David's life. Some days it grated while other times it pulled at his very soul, until all he wanted to do was to go knocking on every apartment door in the building until he found he violinist. Some melodies boosted his spirits for the rest of the day, while others could drag him right back to the most hellish moments in his memory. Sometimes she, because David was convinced that it had to be a woman, played for an hour or more until he couldn't even hear his own thoughts anymore. Sometimes she played for a few minutes, squeezing in a rushed practice and leaving David feeling unsatisfied until the next time.

 

By June, David found himself standing at his windowsill, waiting. She was supposed to have started playing by now. If she'd gone away for the weekend, David considered getting upset. He had had a rough day at work and all he wanted was to hear that music again. She was late. Dammit.  
David exhaled sharply and went to find his headphones. He'd found a few orchestral recordings of the more common pieces that even he could recognize, but listening to them just wasn't the same. He had considered recording his violinist, but decided against it. She'd probably think he was a creep.  
She was gone all weekend.  
David had spent it cranky and annoyed, even though he decided it wasn't because the music was gone. No. He was just tired and could use a vacation. He went and bought himself a ticket to the philharmonic. The performance had been incredible and scratched his itch for a little while. At least until he got home and even the sight of his reading chair by the window awakened the earworm that had been bugging him for a while - there was a particular melody he hoped she'd play and was craving it. It had been an original piece, he assumed, because it spoke to him on such a deep level. It wasn't the most elaborate of her pieces, but he could tell she loved it. Every time she played it, she added flourishes that spoke of her mood that day. It was a conversation she was having and David felt that he was the one it was meant for. Nobody else could understand her as well as he did.

On Monday, David got through his day in a sullen fog. He had to keep reminding himself that it was silly to be obsessed with a neighbour he'd never even seen. This person was a stranger and he was nobody to her. She probably didn't even know he was listening at all, or else she wouldn't be playing things that revealed herself to him. He decided he wasn't going to let this get to him. But when he got home and there was no music that night either, he panicked. What if she moved away?  
There was no music on Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday.  
By Friday, David considered going around to knock on doors once again. He even stepped out of his apartment. Why though? What would he say to people? He'd probably get through three apartments at best until someone called the cops on him.  
He went back inside, poured himself a brandy and forced his way through a chapter. She left him. She broke his heart and trampled all over it, without even knowing he existed. And the worst part? This was the first girl David had ever felt anything for. He had briefly considered that this would be the girl he'd introduce to Esther. He would finally not be broken and could give his mother the pretty daughter-in-law and the litter of grandkids she wanted him to have. Sarah already had two kids and David hadn't been on a date since before Sarah had gotten pregnant with her first.  
Esther didn't know that the date had been with that very same friend that had coined the 'penthouse in the sky' name for David's apartment. Thankfully things hadn't worked out with him back then.  
This time was different, David knew. He could see himself with a girl,  _this_ particular girl. His Melody.

On Sunday evening, as David was preparing his meals for the upcoming week, he heard a muffled screech of bow on untuned strings. His windows had been closed against the stifling midsummer humidity. He dropped his knife and hurried over to the window. He pushed it open, briefly fumbling with the lock because his hands didn't want to cooperate all of a sudden. He stuck his head right out, trying to see if he could finally find the source. If he could just figure out which apartment she was in. He didn't even notice the rain pouring on his head, running down in rivulets through his thick curls into his collar and down his back.

There.

Three floors down.

He could see just the smallest sliver of the apartment from that angle, but he could have sworn he'd seen the polished wood surface of a violin.

 

David pulled back into the apartment and panicked once again. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and tossed it on the counter.   
He took the dishtowel and folded it properly, then put it carefully back on the counter.  
He paced to the fridge, then back to the window.  
He ran his hands through his hair to discover it was sopping wet.   
He paced back to the counter again and violently rubbed at his head with the dishtowel.  
He paced back to the window and looked again. The light was still on in the apartment three floors down.  
He stalked to the apartment door.  
He stalked back, turned off the stove, then went back to the door.  
He stalked back a third time, ripped the fridge door open and cursed himself for not thinking ahead, because now he had no wine to bring with him.   
He cursed himself for thinking he should bring something and that his mind was too unoriginal to just come up with wine.  
He slammed the fridge door shut, went back to the window to check if she was still there. She was. He could see the violin and the bow bobbing in and out of view as she played. God. That melody.  
  
David paused briefly, listening to his melody through the rain. The one he hoped was meant for him, or at least could be, once he went down there to introduce himself.  
He exhaled, rubbed at his unruly curls one more time, tossed the dishtowel aside and launched himself out of his apartment. He knew that if he didn't force himself to go now, then he'd never have the balls to again.  
  
Three flights of stairs later, David was at the apartment door - nondescript, like his own. The floor even smelled the same as his, someone was making cabbage on this level too. His hand was up in a fist, a breath away from the door, a force field between his knuckles and the painted wood. He took a deep breath, held it, and knocked. It was as if the floor gave out from under him and swallowed him whole. David couldn't hear a thing over the thunder of his own heartbeat. He'd practiced an opening line, but his tongue felt like it weighed ten million pounds. The wait was eternal, and yet not nearly long enough, when the door was opened with a firm hand.  
  
"I'm sorry, I know it's later than usual." The voice made David's heart sink right into his knees. She was married. Her husband was coming to the door to apologize, because obviously they'd had complaints from neighbours before. David hated that anyone would find her music worth complaining about, even though he'd been one of her critics not too long ago.  
"It's...okay..." David managed to force out as the door opened wider. The man was taller and older than David. He was in a button-up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms - the kind that a beautiful violinist would find particularly attractive. His hair had fallen out of a combed-back coif, a few strands falling into his kind eyes. David drank in every detail, wishing he could hate the man, but finding himself unable to. Whoever his Melody was, this man was perfect for her.   
"Hey, you're new? I haven't seen you come and complain before"  
"Naw, I'm from...um...upstairs." David wanted to steal a peek into the apartment, so he could maybe at least see the girl he wasn't ever going to have. "David...Jacobs" he stuck his hand out awkwardly.  
The man pushed his door open more, hooking his foot infront of it at the bottom, to hold it open. He was holding a violin and bow in his right hand, which he shuffled quickly to his left in order to shake David's. "Bryan. Bryan Denton."  
"You know what, I'll wrap it up for tonight. I just wanted to catch up." Bryan said warmly "Couldn't bring a violin with me on a business trip to practice. You know how it is" the man exhaled an amused breath through his nose and gave David a tired smile.  
"Oh...sure" David looked from the violin to Denton's face, reading him differently now. Stunned. Overwhelmed. Confused. Thrilled. "You don't have to stop. It was really good" he tried to sound encouraging, but instead his voice squeaked awkwardly. "Well...um...I'll see you..." David took a step back, already turning to head back upstairs, not sure how to process this new information.  
"Yeah?" Denton brightened at the compliment. Before David got too far, he leaned out of his apartment and offered "Hey, do you wanna come in and listen a little? I promise it sounds better up close"  
David paused.  
"Yeah, I'd like that."   
  



End file.
